Then Crosspatch bethought herself of her thimble, and knowing she should want it, she searched for it and found it in her great dimity pocket; and in it was a tiny screw of paper that she picked out, thinking it would make a patch. And so it did, and here it is

BUDS AND BIRDS.

LITTLE tongues they prattle early,
While the dew is fresh and pearly,
On the fair green vest,
Of the fresh earth drest,
To welcome morning early.

First in the dim grey dawn is heard,
The soft little pipe of a drowsy bird,-
Next comes a whistle loud and clear,
Then numberless chirps fall on the ear;
Till lark, and linnet, and finch arouse
To full sweet songs 'midst the leafy boughs.
Sweet, sweet is the Summer morn,

When young birds sing, and blooms are born!

Little eyes they see the sweetness
Of the day in fresh completeness,
And those closed deep

In "beauty sleep!"

Wake up to morning's sweetness.

The leaves are wash'd in early dew
And young buds ope all bright and new ;

D

Tendril and leaf are crisply gay

In the early dawn of a Summer day:
While the daisy opens her pink-fringed eye,
And placidly smiles at the clear grey sky.
Sweet, sweet is the Summer morn,

When young birds sing and blooms are born.

Now that Crosspatch had found her glasses, she perched them on her nose, and examined the old piece of newspaper with a grave air before she cut it up. "Who knows," said she, "whether Tom Tickler may not have left me his property after all, and in that case the goblin might be bribed with some of his gold and silver." But she was disappointed, for this was what was written on it—

A TRUE FAIRY TALE.

The little children clustered round my knee, by the light of a cheerful fire. The night had closed in dark and chill, and the stormy wind moaned fitfully outside the window, bringing dreary messages of the tempests coming. In the tall church towers, the owls remained peace

ably hooting to one another, perhaps relating their family experiences and histories, to beguile the time, for they knew the night would be too wild for mouse or bird to be abroad in. Along the sandy marshes by the sea, the sweet, low piping whistle of the sea-birds was heard distinctly above the roar of the distant billows that were gradually churning themselves up to wild wrath and angry foam. For the birds know more about the weather and its storms, even than Admiral Fitzroy, and have their own signals as intelligible to them as any "drum and cone." To skilful eyes that have long watched their habits, and have become acquainted with their movements, they are as accurate guides as any barometer.

Then the children, the merry children, tired out with their work at school, and their games in the garden afterwards, came round me, as I sat in the dusky twilight, and crowding round the fire, they said in coaxing tones,-"Dear Story-teller, give us a story!"

They roused me from many sad thoughts and

musings, for as we grow old our memories go back to the past and bring before us the dear old faces and the familiar voices that we are deprived of for a little while. But children drive all these thoughts and fancies away, as the strong frolicsome wind scatters the sere leaves of Autumn. So I looked into the bright eyes and laid my hand on the clustering locks of the little ones, as I said

"Little friends, what shall I tell you?"

"Tell us about queens and princesses, and grand doings at court!" said Ellen, drawing up her little golden-haired head, and arching her fat dimpled neck proudly.

"No! no!" shouted all the little ones in chorus. "Tell us a fairy tale! a real fairy tale, dear Storyteller!"

"So be it, my darlings. I will try and please you all if I can, for in fairy times all things were possible and probable."

66

Mind, it's to be true, every word of it!" said Ernest.

"That's a hard condition little people, you are

unconscionable! Queens and Courts and a fairy tale, and all to be true! However, I will try what I can do

Once upon a time then, there was a young princess who lived with her widowed mother. She was endowed from her birth with all the gifts that fairies bring at the christenings of little princesses. She was very fair, very young, and very amiable, and her wise mother had her carefully instructed in all that was fit and necessary for a princess to know. Her bearing was graceful and noble; for though she was too high-minded to be proud, she bore herself with a gracious dignity like a fair white lily, so that all could see at a glance she was indeed a royal maiden. Above all, her voice was sweet, and clear as an instrument, and rang like a silver trumpet-call, not loud, but so distinct that you could hear every word when she spoke or sang. She was not taught to set her heart on splendid jewels or gorgeous array, for her wise mother knew she would see plenty of that when she became a queen; but she was well acquainted